Piglets In A Basket

So, many years ago I rode my bicycle in Vietnam.  It wasn’t a tourist bike group with van support; it was two girls with panniers and a map.  This was long after the war and just at the time that Vietnam was beginning to open up. 

This friend I went with had ridden her bike all over the planet.  It was she that got me into endurance sports.  She was all about the basics.  She mocked fancy equipment.  All you needed was spit and guts.  So for a long time I felt the same. Vietnam was a country of bikes and our mountain bikes attracted a lot of attention. 

Vietnam at that time was one of the poorest countries in the world.  Upon arriving I was shocked at the level of the poverty.  I had been to poor countries but not on this level.   It was beautiful and the people were very kind.   I began to understand that people who have nothing give everything.  It’s when you get some worldly goods that you clutch onto them.  Camel and the eye of the needle and all that.

I had many adventures, but for now I will tell but a few.  We rode south from Hanoi, there was one main road and we’d pass through many towns.  It seemed everyone was learning English and would like to practice on us.  Hello!  Where are you from!  Often people would ride with us.   People would be on their way to market, and sometimes you’d see piglets in a basket.  One time a guy had a large hog strapped on the back of his bike.  He rode a little too close to me.  I wanted to say, “excuse me sir, your pigs nose is rubbing against my thigh.”  I didn’t, I tried to create space but he wanted to ride with me.  Fortunately it was a small town.  

Frequently, schoolboys would want to race me.  I’d say, “guys, I’m happy to ride with you, but I’m going another 40 miles and I’m not racing you right now.”  They might not have understood the exact words but they understood the sentiment, and seemed to content to ride alongside me, each waving as they made the turn to their homes.

We landed in a small beautiful fishing village and stayed for a bit.  One day I went to the market with my bike just as kindergarten let out.  Instantly, 50 little children surrounded me, each wanting to touch my bike.  I smiled and let them.  And then it was time to go.  They weren’t letting me.  I said, please, please, please.  They answered back in high-pitched voices, please, please, please.  I said, lam on, lam on, lam on (please in Vietnamese).  They answered back, lam on, lam on, lam on (okay they probably didn’t know I was trying to speak their language, but they were very good mimics).  I tried, I must go.  They responded, go, go, go.  This went on for a bit.  I’m not sure how I managed to untangle myself.  They were very cute, but wow, the power of multiple 5 year olds!

It’s a wonderful country and a fabulous trip.  Perhaps I shall write more about it.